Meg: A Snow White Story
by Anne-girl1
Summary: Who was Snow White really? Obviously she can't be that spineless little creature of Disney films with a high-pitched voice...Read and find out..
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

You have listened to and known fairy tales for ages and ages. They have been tossed and thrown apart from generation to generation. Through one of these stories, you may have heard of the fair Snow White and her seven dwarves. You may have, but you do not know what really happened to her. She is just a character in a storybook, enfolded by thousands of tellings of her story. But my story you have not heard…yet. My story, of magic and evil and love and friendship, the real story of Snow White and her seven dwarfs, you are yet to hear. So, to start a fairy tale, how do you begin? Oh yes…

Once upon a time, in a far off land long ago, there was a wealthy count and his wife. They had only one child, a girl. Me. I never knew my mother. She had died at childbirth, but my father used to tell me the most wonderful stories of their courtship. For most of my childhood, I have fond memories of riding Nichols, the black stallion my father owned and loved, all throughout our pastures and castle gardens. There was never a dull moment. My father was always with me, caring for me in any way he could. By the age of five, my father decided that I should have a mother again. So he remarried a baroness from another county, a widow with no children. I was greatly disappointed for I longed for companionship in a brother or sister around my own age. My only friends consisted of Nichols and the servants who took pleasure in teasing me while they did their chores. Margaret, the cook, baked me fresh scones on Sunday mornings before mass and Erin, the maid who cleaned and dusted my room every Thursday, liked to tug at my hair and tickle my sides until I'd run screaming and laughing at the same time.

My stepmother was quite unlike my father. She never had time for me. I learned later that she married my father because, as a widow, she had lost much of her money trying to pay her debts of her estate. My father was one of the richest in the county, besides the king, and took pity on her. When I was older, I scolded my father for choosing a bride in such a way because marriage should be for love and not for pity or for money. He only brushed me aside and told me to be grateful that I even had a mother. I tried in every way to become close to my stepmother. Several times I attempted to begin a game of cards with her or bring her breakfast in bed. She would pretend to occupy herself with random tasks when I walked in with a deck of cards, telling me she was too busy and in the morning, she would give me a cold nod and wave me away. She questioned Father countless times to send me to boarding school, but, to my relief, he always declined.

And so I grew up, independent and dreamy, because I spent most of my time by myself, reading books, wandering through the castle's gardens and talking to myself and to Nichols, my most treasured listener. After spending hours with a tutor, I'd study my lessons in the Grand Stable, feeding Nichols apples and sugar cubes and every now and then lay down my book to tell him things. He'd look at me with those huge soft brown horse eyes and seem to smile back at me, even when I was crying. He'd nudge my shoulder with his nose and I'd lie back in the sweet-smelling hay, feeling better that he was there.

When I was nine, my life changed forever. My father grew ill and died quickly of pneumonia. I was devastated, especially because since my stepmother had entered our intimate little world, he had grown apart from me, always upon the demands of my stepmother and throwing himself into his work. And now he was gone completely. My stepmother, I knew pretended to be saddened by his lost, but it only made her all the more richer and happier. She inherited all his money and his property, only to purchase more servants and more of her own possessions. I hardly ever saw her, except for meals, usually she kept to herself, probably reveling in her own filth and greed and fortune. I didn't care; it made me even more independent. Little did she care if I went walking through town to buy myself a bun from the pastry shop or to stop in at the library.

One of those days, in which I decided to spend wandering around the streets of the village, marked a start to my story.

I had just come out of the library with a particular favorite book held in my basket, not really paying attention to anyone except myself and humming a tune Mary usually sang while she was cooking breakfast. I had tied my long black hair carelessly back in a loose braid and by now, through the dust and the breeze, it had fallen about my face. I was in a fantasy world; nothing could be better than walking alone on a sunny day with a favorite book and a stomach full of pastries. I sighed and twirled about until my fantasy world burst as I crashed into someone. I then tripped over my skirt and went down hard on my hands and knees, my basket and book flying. Utterly humiliated and turning beet red, I slowly got up, gathering my thoughts that had scattered all over the street.

"Pardon me, I didn't see you," a boy's voice said. I looked up and brushed myself off, even more embarrassed. It was a boy I had seen before, often in the village, buying things. He was of great wealth by the way he dressed and I always saw him with a number of servants scurrying after him. He was about a head taller than I was and his grey eyes stared down on a trembling girl now full of dirt.

"I'm sorry." He scooped up my basket and my book and handed them to me, grinning, "I'll remember to watch where I'm going next time, Lady."

I smiled back at him, "It is entirely my fault, sir, the sun and the spring weather have entirely taken over my senses and thoughts, therefore also denying me of wit and seriousness," I replied gaily, though now fully aware of my dusty and dirty appearance.

He laughed.

"Are you—" he started, but one of his servants called for him and he glanced at me again before running off. I shrugged and strolled out of town into the quietness and peace of the woodland path outside the walls of noise and chaos.

Ah, this was where I was meant to be. I loved the woods. It fulfilled a certain part of me, especially when I was missing my father most, because he would often take me walking. We would name trees and shrubs and he'd pick flowers and stick them in my hair. He used to call me Snow because I was fair and my complexion reminded him of my mother, who's skin was as white as the star-flowers we used to find along the path. Now I picked a bouquet of them and strung them together, tying them around my head and filling my basket.

I carefully sat and untied my boots and proceeded to climb a tree and sit, perched in between two branches and read my book. This was solitude as it was meant to be. As I turned each page, I'd look up and gaze over the village and in the distance, I could see the towers of the palace, a place that sparked great interest in me. My father, in his business, used to take trips there to do work for the king Himself and he'd come back telling me stories of how grand and elegant the grounds and the halls were in the palace, making our own estate seem like a shack. I have yet only seen the palace from a distance, but I have made a promise to myself to visit it before I die. My father had unfulfilled dreams. He said once he would take me to Paris and travel along the river in Venice. Once he even said he'd take me where the fairies live and to where a certain witch brews magical potions. But, in my solitude, I have come to the conclusion that there are no witches or fairies. But, for some reason I don't know of, I keep searching, as if to find a reason to prove myself wrong. It's just as well, you know, to keep on dreaming, to make life seem a bit less complicated.

A church bell chimed in the distance. I jumped, nearly throwing myself to my death out of the tree and gasped, climbing down the tree as fast as I could. I had told my stepmother I would be home by five o'clock.

"I don't know why she does care if I come home or not," I muttered to myself as I grabbed my basket, flowers flying to the ground as I turned, hair spinning. Grabbing my boots, I ran in my bare feet to reach our castle's grounds. Panting and wiping my forehead, I hurried into the front garden where I crashed, for the second time, into someone. It was John, the gardener and tree-cutter.

"Well, you'd better hurry, my lady. She's in one of her moods," he warned, shaking his head, speaking of my stepmother. My hands began to shake as I slowed and walked in through the front doors. I found my stepmother standing by the side wall.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
A moment of silence made the walls seem to quiver with my knees and I swallowed, slowly walking over to a figure, robed in royal purple and facing a portrait of one of my relatives.  
  
"What kept you?" my stepmother asked clearly, with a tang of anger and evil in her voice, not bothering to turn around.  
  
"I'm sorry-I lost track of the time-" I stuttered.  
  
"Did I ask you for apologies and excuses?" she turned around sharply. Her face was all curves and sharpness. Her black eyes were like needles, poking at my appearance. She had high cheekbones and her eyebrows were pointed in a permanent arch, as if she were accustomed to looking down on people all the time. Her hands were covered in sparkling jewels, gifts from my father, and they were crossed in front of her in between the long folds of her gown. She stared hard at me.  
  
"Well, actually, yes, in a way you did," I said quietly.  
  
"Don't contradict me. I'm expecting very important guests for supper and I needed to get you out of the way. I didn't want you waltzing in during our meal. You will eat your supper with Martha in the kitchen."  
  
"It's Margaret-" I started.  
  
She waved her hand for silence, "Look at you, all full of dirt, without even any shoes on. What would the King think of you?"  
  
"That's who coming to dinner?" I asked, shocked.  
  
"Yes, and his wife and son. They have not called since your father passed and the King was very great friends with your father."  
  
"Go wash up and put on something decent for once. And get Erin to help you dust off the dining hall. I will not have royalty sitting on dusty chairs."  
  
"Yes ma'am," I murmured and turned, carrying my basket of starflowers and book as if they were too heavy to carry and climbed the stairs to my room. I heard my stepmother's skirts swish as she turned swiftly and left the room.  
  
My room was the room at the end of the hall of guestrooms, the smallest, but in my view, the prettiest. It looked out on the main garden to the walls covered in vines. I had always loved window seats and I had two in my room. The first was the biggest and was the full view of the garden. The second, the smaller, was my favorite because it faced the east. I spent long hours before and after dawn, watching the sun rise over the village and the stars disappear. The wall opposite the feather bed was my library. They were mostly my father's books when he was at school and from his travels and I treasured them beyond anything of my possessions. I crossed the room and tossed my basket on my bed. The door opened and Erin came in.  
  
"My goodness, the mistress has got the whole place in a fuss. It isn't the first time the King himself paid a visit, but it may be the last when he spends a meal with her."  
  
I giggled.  
  
"Now, come, dear, let's get you dressed up and we can finish off the dining room quickly."  
  
She patted the bed and I sat beside her. Erin took a brush from my bureau and began to comb out of the tangles of my day. I told her wistfully about the ramble I had in the woods and the story of my book.  
  
She shook her head at me, wrapping her fingers around my thick black curls, braiding and wrapping the braid around my head, leaving wee little curls about my face.  
  
"Head always in the clouds, Megan."  
  
"Meg," I corrected, as I stood up and let her undress me.  
  
"My, this dress is filthy!" Erin looked over the dirty frock and laid it carefully over a chair, "What, did you fall in a mud puddle today?"  
  
I told her briefly of my interlude with the boy and falling all over myself. She laughed at my story, her vivid green eyes shining.  
  
"You've had quite a day today." She went to the closet and pulled out a pale blue gown my father used to be so fond of. Her frizzy red hair was tied messily in a bun that had fallen out as she had scrubbed the floors this morning. She turned and smiled her sweet smile at me, freckles splattered about her cheeks.  
  
"Here, you tell me you always feel particularly pretty in this one."  
  
I raised my arms as she pulled the dress over my head and over my white petticoats. I gazed out the window as she buttoned the back.  
  
"Erin?"  
  
"Yes dear."  
  
"What does my stepmother do all by herself all the time?"  
  
"I don't rightly know," she finished buttoning and turned me around, "It ain't right to meddle in other people's business."  
  
I sat back down on the bed to pull on my white slippers and looked back up at Erin.  
  
"I know you know something about her. You must know if you spend all day being invisible and going about the rooms cleaning."  
  
Erin sighed and sat next to me, "She's a mysterious creature that's for sure. I have reason to think she's a witch in disguise, always sneaking around and disappearing to God knows where for hours on end."  
  
I chuckled, "Erin, you know there are no such things as witches."  
  
"I don't know about that," she arched her eyebrows, "Don't you remember your father's stories?" She laughed, "Remember the one about the dwarves that lived all alone in the woods?"  
  
"I think dwarves are just as unreal as witches are," I shrugged and looked back at the window. Erin was silent for a moment.  
  
"I know you miss your father." She reached and squeezed my shoulder, "Things would've been much different, if he were."  
  
I stood up and brushed off my gown.  
  
"Well, do I look quite ready?"  
  
She sighed and smiled at me, "You look more beautiful than any other sixteen-year-old girl I've ever met."  
  
I returned the smile and took her arm.  
  
"Let's go make sure royalty isn't sitting on dusty chairs," I said. Erin laughed.  
  
We walked back downstairs the dining hall and I was sent out to fetch water from the well to fill flower vases. My stepmother was very elaborate in her decorating. There were bouquets of flowers all along the walls of the dining hall.  
  
The sun was slowly setting, creating a red glow on the grounds. The well was a beautiful object. Old and worn, the stone well was covered in vines and sweet-smelling rose plants. I took my leisurely time in strolling to the well, to soak in the glory of the day and to take as much time away from my stepmother's unending orders. I set the wooden pail on the ground beside the well and leaned on the edge of the well, gazing down into the black depths.  
  
"Hello-hello.hello.hello," I cried out into the well, listening to the glorious echo rising up to greet me. My father told me once of the beautiful Greek nymph named Echo, who was born with a speech impediment and could only repeat whatever anyone said to her. She fell in love the god, Narcissus, but never was given love in return and so she withered away until only her voice remained, forever repeating in longing tones. That story was one of my favorites and the best I could hear of the nymph was in this well.  
  
"Hello-hello.hello.hello," I cried again, just to hear the reply. I smiled and picked up the pail, thinking longingly of a place away from orders and rules, a place full of freedom. Reaching into my pocket, I tossed two coins into the well and said aloud a wish to the sweet nymph.  
  
"I wish.wish.wish." I called into the well, "to be free."  
  
"Free.free.free," was the answer I received. A rustle came from the bushes around the path behind me. I jumped and spun around to face the same boy I had crashed into this morning.  
  
"Hello," he said. I was so startled, I couldn't think of anything to say.  
  
"You're the girl from the village, aren't you?" he asked. I merely nodded feeling stupid and small. The boy seemed about sixteen or seventeen and was very richly dressed. How did he find out where I lived? Then something dawned on me.  
  
"You're-you're." I tried to say. The boy sighed.  
  
"Yes, I'm Prince Theodore. But no one except my father calls me that. Mostly I'm called Teddy."  
  
His father! That was the king! There was a short pause.  
  
"And you are.?" the prince asked.  
  
"Megan White. But I'd rather be called Meg."  
  
"So you are Frederick White's daughter he used to speak so much of!" Teddy grinned, "I've been told about you. How ironic it is that we just happened to meet."  
  
I thought about this for a moment. It seemed kind of strange that he "happened" to walk down the path of our gardens to the well, well hidden from view.  
  
My cheeks were flushed and I felt embarrassed having been found crying out wishes into a well.  
  
"I'm sorry, my stepmother must be waiting for the water for the vases. Again, my daydreams have stopped me from doing my chores."  
  
The prince laughed gaily, "Here let me help you."  
  
He took the pail and threw into the well and then pulled on the rope. I watched him, forgetting to thank him. He was definitely handsome, tall and strong. He had short dark brown curls that fell over his eyes as he pulled on the rope to bring the water up. He had strong hands, I noticed as he handed me the pail full of water.  
  
"Thank you very much," I said, smiling, "I hope I haven't kept you from your supper."  
  
"Not at all," Teddy answered, "The baroness has taken my father to the treasury."  
  
Figures she'd be showing off. I fought the urge to roll my eyes and curtsied as best I could without spilling the water.  
  
"I'm sorry, sire, I shouldn't have kept Erin waiting so long."  
  
"Teddy, please," the prince corrected, "Will you be at home tomorrow?"  
  
I nodded, my thoughts scattered.  
  
"May I call on you?"  
  
"Of-of course," I stammered and curtsied again before turning to go through the kitchen door. I closed the door and leaned against the back of it, taking a deep breath and smiling to myself.  
  
Little did I know there had been someone spying on us through the treasury window. 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three  
  
I ate a very quiet supper with Margaret and Erin in the kitchen, for we were all listening very hard through the kitchen door to the dining hall. My stepmother barely gave the king and queen a chance to get a word in edgewise. She talked of the state of our county, the wonderful people she met in the county (which of course she has never actually been to town) and just how beautiful the palace looked in the springtime. She never mentioned me or my father for that matter. Only once, when she was finally at a loss for conversation and the king brought up her own living affairs.  
  
"You have one daughter, have you not?"  
  
"Step-daughter, Your Majesty, but I cannot really call her a relative, she has lived so distantly from me and never has shown any want to be closer with me. I have tried many times to become acquainted with my late husband's family, but she has shown me no interest. She refused to come to supper this night for having to sit near me."  
  
My mouth dropped in anger as my ear pressed harder into the door without swinging it open. The prince spoke for the first time.  
  
"Surely not. If she is born from Sir Frederick, she must be of better status than that."  
  
The baroness was silent.  
  
"She has a fair countenance, has she not?" the queen asked.  
  
"Fair, yes, but like her mother I dare say she will lose her bloom early. It will become harder to get her married off," my stepmother replied coldly.  
  
"I hardly see that as possible," the prince answered.  
  
"Well, already she isn't all that good-looking. She keeps to herself and spends most of her time running under the sun and climbing trees and ruining her skin. It isn't good for her, but she won't listen to me."  
  
"Her father used to speak of her often, calling her the 'the fairest in the land'," the queen spoke, "Her father was a good man."  
  
"A relationship of fatherly adoration for his daughter of course. Any parent sees their child perfect in their eyes."  
  
I could bear it no longer. The swinging kitchen door burst open and I stormed out, face red and eyes flashing.  
  
"How dare you!" I cried, "All of you! How dare you talk of me behind my back as if I was something to be bought in a store window!"  
  
My stepmother gave me the look of deepest loathing, "How dare you eavesdrop and interrupt our meal!"  
  
"How could I help it when you were yelling out such lies!"  
  
My stepmother stood up, walked briskly over to me and slapped me smartly across the face. I heard a gasp from our guests.  
  
"You will go back to the kitchen and stay away from here," she hissed at me, "You have utterly humiliated me and your father!"  
  
"Oh, don't bring my father up!" I interrupted, not bothering to keep my voice down, "You never loved him and show no capacity or will to love me either!"  
  
I spun around and marched back through the kitchen door. I was so seething with anger that I gave no notice to Erin and Margaret as they stood up when I burst in. I opened the other door to the outside and ran to the Grand Stable, where I burst into tears in Nichols' stall.  
  
It wasn't fair. Just then, I didn't care if no one came after me. I didn't want to be talked about behind my back, especially by the baroness to the king and queen! And prince, for that matter! Oh, if Father were still alive, I wouldn't have to deal with this. He would've stood up for me, even against my stepmother. Erin's line floated through my head. 'Things would've been much different, if he were.' God, it wasn't fair!  
  
"Why did you have to die?" I sobbed into Nichols' blanket. I felt Nichols nuzzle my head. It felt strange, but through my tears, I didn't notice nor did I lift my head.  
  
"It's all right," a voice soothed. For a split second, I thought Nichols could speak. I lifted my head in amazement to find the prince kneeling beside me with his hand on my head. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but was unsuccessful and proceeded to cough.  
  
"I'm very sorry," he said, dropping his hand. I wiped my eyes and my nose and stood up.  
  
"You didn't need to follow me," I squeaked, looking at my feet, my face tear-stained and still red.  
  
"Is she always like that?"  
  
I needed to lie. I didn't want to come under any more trouble than I already was and my stepmother would surely kill me if I told the truth. It was truth though, she had never hit me before. But I had seen it in her eyes sometimes. Too bad for her, her temper finally got the better of her. and in front of important company.  
  
"No," I struggled to answer, "No, my stepmother has a bad temper. It was my fault. I should not have burst in on your meal like that. I should not have made her temper rise. It isn't good for her health."  
  
"But she still had no reason to slap you," Teddy insisted, sounding quite surprised. I refused to look up at him.  
  
"I have strayed away too long," I answered, "My stepmother may need me."  
  
I hurried out of the stable, leaving Teddy behind. I scrambled through the kitchen entrance and found that the king and queen were getting into their carriage.  
  
"Where is my stepmother?" I asked Erin.  
  
"She disappeared after giving a hurried fake apology to the king and queen. She said you had some sort of mental disability, controlling what you said and that was one reason she wanted you away from the dining hall in case you went out of control. I don't know whether the king and queen were satisfied with that explanation. The prince left immediately after you did. I don't know where he went and the king and queen left as well. Oh, what a horrible mess this has turned out to be!"  
  
I went to go find my stepmother. Why, I wasn't sure, but I just knew she wasn't up to any good. Up the stairs and down the hall to her room I fled, full of anger and rage. I burst through the door, only to find that she wasn't there. Cautiously, I crept in, glancing around. Everything was very neat, too neat. There was not a speck of dust and the bed was made. The only thing that wasn't in order was the picture frame, holding a picture of a landscape. It was hanging on an angle. I went to straighten it, but when I did, there was something strange behind it. The wall wasn't painted here, it was plain cold stone.  
  
Confused, I ran my hand over the stone. All of a sudden, the stone began to move. Gasping, I ripped my hand away and watched with horror. The stone seemed to melt and move apart, slowly creating a hole in the wall. When it finished, there was a complete doorway to a set of stone stairs leading downwards. I covered my mouth with my hand as questions popped into my head about my sanity. I pinched myself, winced, then sighed and glanced behind me, making sure no one was watching me and descended the dark staircase. 


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four  
  
I only knew that I actually existed from the echoing of my breathing and the feel of the cold stone walls on my hands on each side of me. I moved ever so slowly in the dark slipping downward into some unknown world where I had a horrible feeling that only evil existed. Taking a deep breath, I kept going, not knowing where this was going to end and what was going to happen when it actually did. I could barely think straight, everything seemed to be happening all at once and yet, nothing was stirring. My thoughts couldn't settle. Flashes of my stepmother leaning over a cauldron wearing a long black gown kept appearing in my head, but I shook them away, too numb with fear to stop now.  
  
Then the stairs stopped and there was an underground passageway. I crept forward, taking a step every few seconds, placing each foot cautiously for fear of the ground suddenly dropping underneath me.  
  
Suddenly, and I thought I imagined it, a faint light appeared in the thick darkness. I walked toward it, my breathing becoming shorter and my palms becoming clammy. The light grew brighter and brighter, and then very softly at first, I heard a voice.  
  
As I got closer, the voice grew more familiar and I threw every ounce of concentration into hearing what the voice was saying.  
  
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?" the voice asked.  
  
"Snow White, Snow White is the fairest one of all," another voice answered, sounded eerily like my father. I gasped and covered my mouth, almost losing my balance on the stone floor. I was quite sure by now that it was my stepmother. But whom was she speaking to?  
  
"Drat!" screeched my stepmother, "How do you know this?"  
  
"Ask like that, I won't have time, for you know I only answer in rhyme," the other voice said. There was a silence. I crept closer to the light, which as I got closer, it appeared to be a doorway. I grasped at the wall and edged along it to stand beside the doorway. By the sound of it, my stepmother was talking to a mirror and the mirror was answering back, and I was most definitely dreaming. I peeked my head around to peer into the room. It was dully lit. There was a wooden table covered in old, dusty books and on the opposite side of the room, stood my stepmother, not facing me, but facing the wall talking to nothing other than a beautiful gilded mirror. My jaw dropped, but I quickly resumed my standing position outside the door.  
  
"How do you know this, oh mirror on the wall, that Snow White is the fairest one of all?"  
  
How did my stepmother know my father's nickname for me?  
  
"Hair as black as night, lips as red as blood, skin as white as snow," was the mirror's very elaborate answer. I raised my eyebrows. This was very strange.  
  
There was a rustling and then a crash and breaking of glass. For a second, I thought she had thrown the mirror, but then my stepmother screamed.  
  
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, why does she have to be the fairest one of all?" she hollered in rage.  
  
"I don't know," the mirror replied. I struggled to hold in a burst of laughter.  
  
"What good are you, you stupid mirror? I must be the fairest in the land and no one, not even that Snow White will stop me!"  
  
So she hated me. Hated me because I was more beautiful than she was. I almost laughed at the prospect. The fact that she hated me wasn't a surprise, I'd felt it ever since she'd taken control when I was nine. But the fact that she was jealous of me seemed almost funny. I knew she was getting ready to storm out into the hall, so I made a run for it through the dark hallway.  
  
It seemed even darker because I had looked into the bright room. I raced through the thick darkness, trying not to make slapping noises on the stone underneath my feet as I ran. Suddenly, my toes hit something really hard and I clamped my mouth shut to keep from screaming. I had found the stairs. I groped about with my hands to crawl up them as fast as I could.  
  
I don't know how I did it, but I made it through the wall alive and into my stepmother's bedroom, which was dark because night had fallen. I limped with my injured toes to my room, trying to sort out what I had just learned.  
  
My stepmother wanted to be the fairest in the land. I shook my head as I thought about it. It seemed so crazy! I kicked off my shoes and lay myself down on my bed. This day had been so terrible, so long and so strange. When I couldn't bear to think about it any longer, I forced myself to know happier times and fell asleep dreaming of the beautiful nymph and her disappearing echoes.  
  
The next day I spent in the back garden, riding Nichols back and forth through the cornfield and thinking only of what a beautiful day it was. I strolled into the main garden about noontime, where I found a twittering bird on the pathway. Melting with sympathy, I knelt down and gently picked it up.  
  
"What did you find?" a man's voice said behind me. I turned and showed John, the gardener and tree-cutter, the bird's broken wing. He smiled at me.  
  
"You always did have a heart to match your sweet features," he told me. I blushed and waved my hand in modesty, then turned back to the bird.  
  
"John, sir, the mistress is calling you!" Erin called from the kitchen window.  
  
"Coming!" he answered and laying down his axe, he disappeared into the castle. I sat down amongst the yellow rose bush and stroked the bird's wing, upon getting it a bandage. I laid the bird down on the grass and quickly assembled a nest underneath the rose bush, a nice shady spot.  
  
"There, now, my dear friend," I placed the quivering bird on its bed of pine needles and flower petals, "May your hospital bed smell beautiful all the time."  
  
I grinned at my own silliness and stood up, facing John was coming back out with a grim, shocked look on his face.  
  
"What did she do now?" I demanded of him. He shook his head.  
  
"Nothing, I promise you." He took up his axe again, "Come, let's go for a walk in the woods. You can pick some flowers."  
  
I readily agreed. I fell into step beside him, holding the same basket with my book and my lunch. We walked in silence all the way into the woods.  
  
"Oo, here's a lovely hidden patch of wild violets!" I pointed to a splash of purple by an oak tree. I knelt down, sitting sideways and began to fill my basket, humming to myself. I forgot everything around me and all of a sudden, I was in a world with just me and I could hear my father singing to me in the back of my head. My fingers curled around a tiny violet stem and I played with it, stroking the velvety petals. As my fantasy world faded away, I saw a shadow appear on the tree in front of where I knelt. I gasped and whirled around and there was John, standing in front of me with his axe raised over his head.  
  
I covered my head with my hands and screamed. I heard a cry and the thud of the axe hitting. the ground. I held my breath and slowly opened my eyes. John collapsed on the ground beside me and began to sob. I had never seen a grown man cry, I had been too young when my mother died. I was so frightened I didn't know what to do. John lifted his head and stared seriously at me.  
  
"You've got to get away from here," he said.  
  
"What?" I asked, completely shocked.  
  
"I couldn't do it, I couldn't do it," he kept sobbing into the dirt.  
  
"Couldn't do what?" I asked him, gently touching his shoulder.  
  
"The mistress, she wants you dead, you must run away, far away and never return!"  
  
"But.but I can't-"  
  
"You must! You hear me? Go, go now!" He stood up and pulled me to my feet with a firm grasp.  
  
My mouth opened, but no words came out.  
  
"GO!" he yelled at me and pushed me forward. I gave him one last look of fright and turned, running blindly through the trees. 


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five  
  
I could barely run because my skirts kept getting in the way. My basket kept thumping against my side and my hair was falling out of its bun. But I could've cared less right then as I ran for a reason I did not understand. All I knew was that my legs were moving and my mind slowly followed. I had no idea to where I was running and when I would return. No, he said I mustn't return. But why? Because my stepmother hated me. She wanted to kill me. Why? Because I was prettier than she was. Why did life have to come to this? For this question, I had no answer.  
  
I ran and ran, panting and all my limbs aching with fatigue, but I did not stop. My stomach growled with hunger as the hour waned. Finally, utterly exhausted and too miserable to carry on, I collapsed on the grass, falling almost immediately asleep.  
  
I awoke to complete darkness. Forgetting where I was, I sat up, rubbing my eyes. Then it all came back to me like a stone being dropped in the pit of my stomach. I looked around me, but I could see farther than my feet. The woods was a completely different place at night. I enjoyed its splendor and peace during the day, but I could not tolerate its evil and blackness when the sun went down. Shivering in my thin gown, I felt for my basket and pulled out the shawl that had held my wrapped lunch. I made sure the food was still in the basket, for my stomach ached with hunger and then wrapped the cotton shawl around my shoulders. It didn't do much, but I only cared for food at that moment. I had devoured my apple and two of the blueberry scones when I thought I heard a rustling in the bush near me. I jumped out of my skin and scrambled to my feet, grabbing my things. I dared not move after that.  
  
Then an owl hooted above me. I yelped and started running. I crashed into a number of trees, but I kept moving as fast as I could, my heart beating faster than my mind could process what was going on. Then suddenly there was no ground under my feet and I went sliding down a bank into a stream. Right then and there, I started to cry. Shivering of cold, wetness and fear, I sat there on the muddy bank till I thought my eyes could produce no more water.  
  
I was generally a happy person, was I not? But for that to be true, I needed sunlight, people to be happy with, things to be happy about, everything I was denied of right now. My basket had probably floated down the stream and my shawl was stuck to my drenched skin. There I sat, trembling, in the darkness for hours on end. When morning finally broke, I could not have been happier. I began to sob again in relief and stood up, every part of my body aching.  
  
The woods was now a pretty place. I looked around me as if to find a sign of somewhere to go, but I found nothing. The sun and the daybreak were of course very welcome things, but with them there was a sting. The sun dawned on the first day of my loneliness.  
  
Now I have said that I had always been very content wandering alone, picking flowers, and humming to the tune of my own song, but being alone and being lonely are two very different things. I had never been truly alone in my entire life, even when my father had died. There were people like Erin to brush my hair and to listen when I spoke, and Margaret to bake me delicious concoctions from her kitchen, and. Teddy.  
  
But this time I was alone. Completely alone. There would be no Erin to listen, no Margaret to smile over the stove at me, and no Teddy, my first real friend. I was by myself.  
  
Of course, I could take this positively. The well had given me what I wanted most. No more orders or slaps from my stepmother. I could do whatever I wanted. Never before had I had this kind of freedom. But now that I had it, I wanted nothing more than to be in my father's arms, listening to him tell me a story and running his fingers through my hair, and calling me his "little Snow White." I had always been told to be careful what I wished for. But I never intended to have this go the way it did. I could never return to my home, the only home I've ever known and the only friend of my age I've ever had.  
  
My mind constantly returned again and again to Teddy and his friendliness towards me as I walked farther into the wilderness that day. He was going to call on me today, he said he would. If only I could've been there to receive him. A thought suddenly occurred to me. My stepmother wanted me dead. She sent John to kill me and he couldn't do it. He would probably tell Teddy that I was dead. My stepmother would probably tell him I was dead. I would never see him again.  
  
Was it really possible to trample on all your dreams in the course of one day? I thought to myself. Yes, apparently it was. I had no idea what I was going to do with myself now. It would be better to kill myself than to live my life alone pretending to be dead to everyone else. But no, I would survive this. I would find something. Teddy would've wanted me to live. No, my father would've wanted me to live. Yes, live and prosper. And so I would, for him.  
  
Filled with a new strange sense of courage, I set off to begin my different life in a new world. 


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six  
  
"Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty."  
  
I murmured fragments of poetry to content myself as I wandered through the woods. I was hungry and weary and had spent the last two days living on nuts and wild berries. I vaguely remembered passing over a stream or two, but my thoughts were of a dreamy fashion, following one another softly and smoothly without any real intermission. They were what kept me going. If I refused to let my mind worry about what may lie ahead of me, I figured I was better off. Besides, the woods at afternoon hour with the sunrays dented and broken through the boughs and greenery spreading over everything like a soft blanket left no room in my head for seriousness.  
  
"Never did sun more beautifully steep  
  
In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw, I, never felt, a calm so deep!"  
  
Perhaps the hunger had gone to my head. I tied a belt of Queen Anne's Lace about my waist and in doing so looked over my appearance. My pale yellow frock, the one Erin had picked out for me three days ago now, was now so soiled and ripped I looked like a walking rag bag with a flower band to tie myself together. I had long discarded my shoes, tying the laces together and hanging them around my neck, so that I could walk barefoot and free my sore feet.  
  
"I must look a sight," I said aloud to myself, kneeling down to look at my reflection in a stream. The same, pale face gazed back at me with the large dark eyes and the red-lipped smile and the mass of black hair hanging down by my waist. For a moment I hated the way I looked. It was for this reason I was wandering these woods in the first place. Perhaps if I were ugly, my stepmother wouldn't hate me so much.  
  
*******************  
  
That night I had a dream. I saw John and he was standing in the main hall of our castle with a small, gold box in his hand. He looked extremely nervous and pale-faced. I tried to move towards him and comfort him, but my feet wouldn't allow me to. Suddenly my stepmother appeared through a side door.  
  
"You have it?" she asked. John nodded slowly and placed the box in her hands. She opened it, peered inside and quickly closed it again.  
  
"This is her heart?" my stepmother looked up at John. John still said nothing and nodded again.  
  
"Excellent. You have done well. Speak of this to no one and you will be rewarded splendidly."  
  
John bowed slightly and turned, walking swiftly and silently out of the hall. The scene faded as I watched my stepmother standing holding the box, wearing a strangely wild smile on her face.  
  
I awoke, drenched in a cold sweat. What did that mean? What was John doing? What was my stepmother doing and why did she ask for someone's heart? The morning light nearly blinded me as I stretched and stood, preparing for another day's walk. Then a thought came to me. What if that was supposed to be my heart? But then, if it was, why would John do such a thing? Especially if I wasn't even dead.  
  
The dream haunted me as I made my journey that day. It made me frightened again. I remembered all the things I'd seen when I followed my stepmother into her hidden room, perhaps she was a witch. An evil witch, one with magic spells and secret plans and a magic mirror. I shook myself from the idea.  
  
"No, no!" I scolded myself, bitterly shaking my head, "Witches don't exist! Magic doesn't exist!"  
  
I walked blindly through a thicket and then fell upon the strangest sight I had ever seen.  
  
It was a little cottage. Quite a quaint little cottage at that, with red tiling on the roof and tiny windows. A bridge crossed over a stream following a little path up to the stone step below the front door. I stood there, dumbfounded at my discovery and finally recovering, I cautiously made my way towards the house.  
  
It appeared to be abandoned, as I sincerely hoped. Nevertheless, I knocked a few times on the door, just to be sure. No one answered, so I crept in, closing the door behind me.  
  
It certainly seemed abandoned, I concluded as I stared around the main room covered in cobwebs and dust. There was a long table with seven chairs around it in the center of the room. In one corner, facing the front window, was a small kitchen with a water pump and a sink and a cast iron stove. In the other corner were rows of shelves with books and other trinkets lined up on them. Delighted, I walked over to that corner and pulled out one of the dusty novels.  
  
"The History of Dwarves," I read aloud the title on the front cover. Raising my eyebrows in confusion, I opened to a page in the book. A cloud of dust rose from it and I began to cough, so much so that I had to close the book and put it back on the shelf. I simply looked at the titles on the binding of each book after that. The only book that I was familiar with was a book of poems by Tennyson. All the others were strange titles, like "The Rise and Fall of Magic in the Dark Ages" and "101 Ways to Cook Witches Cabbage." The titles were so random and strange, I decided to move to look through the rest of the house.  
  
The rest of the main room didn't have much. There were a few cabinets filled with dust-covered dishes and glasses and drawers filled with silverware. There were scattered bits of clothing about the floor and draped on chairs. I picked one up off the floor delicately with two fingers. It was a tiny wool nightcap. Confused more than ever now, I decided to explore the upstairs.  
  
The stairs were old, wooden and squeaky. Every step I took, I feared the stair would cave in. At the landing, I turned to the left and pushed open a door to find a bedroom. The room was dark because the windows were covered with dirty calico curtains. I pushed open the curtains and let in some of the morning sun. Looking around the room, I saw seven little beds pushed against the two opposite walls.  
  
They were all unmade, covers pulled back to the foot post and pillows all disarray. There were two large messy bureaus against the wall on either side of the door. Clothes were hanging out of them. I found stray socks under the beds, little decks of cards with strange emblems on them and a few notebooks filled with symbols I didn't understand.  
  
Despite its strange appearance, I came to like the little house right away. About ten minutes later, I had run back down the squeaky stairs and had decided to really make this abandoned house my own. I found a broom in a dark corner under the stairs and swept out the cobwebs in the four corners of the main room and in the crevices in the ceiling. Using my shawl, which was now useless to keep anything warm, I wiped down the table and chairs and the wooden counter around the sink. I tried the water pump, pleased to see that fresh water came out of it and began scrubbing dishes. I then proceeded to organize the shelves to suit my own pleasure and carefully dusted all the books, placing them just as carefully back on the shelf. They seemed a bit brighter now that they were free of dust and grime. I pulled open the door to let the sunshine in and unlocked all the windows, washing them inside and out. I worked the day away without realizing it and by the time the sun sank below the horizon, I was sitting breathlessly, but happy at the long table in the middle of a very clean house. And it was mine. All mine. I now had a place to live, even if it was by myself.  
  
I walked up the stairs to the freshly aired bedroom with all the beds made and pushed together to make a huge bed for myself. I collapsed into the pillows, kicking off my shoes, thinking myself very lucky to have found such an abandoned house.  
  
Little I knew how I wrong I was. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven  
  
Something poked at my side. In my deepened sleep, I rolled over. I had been sleeping for about three hours and it was night around the little cottage. But little did I know or care, for such a sleep I was in, making up for the nights of restlessness and misery and painful aches. I had at last found somewhere comfortable and nothing would keep me from taking advantage of it. Then something poked my shoulder.  
  
My eyes opened quickly. I saw the dark ceiling of the little bedroom above me. Something was in the room, I could feel it. Slowly I sat up, leaning on my hands. I twisted around on the beds and screamed.  
  
A group of heads was staring at me over me over the bed frame. I swallowed my stomach and it got stuck in my throat. There were seven of them, seven little men. Surely I was going crazy. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. There they were, staring at me with equal fright and amazement. They all wore the wool nightcaps like the one I had found on the floor downstairs. Some of them had bristly red beards, some rosy cheeks, but all had their bright blue eyes turned on me. Then one, the fattest on the end wearing little round spectacles, spoke.  
  
"Who are you?" he asked, voice cracking in fright a bit. He had some sort of strange accent I couldn't place. I raised my eyebrows.  
  
"I'd like to ask you the same question," I answered.  
  
"I asked you first," he said. Lowering my eyebrows, I sat cross-legged on the bed, determined to keep my wits about me. I sighed.  
  
"My name is." I paused, cautious of these strangers and thinking it would be better not to tell them my real name, "My name is Snow White."  
  
"Well, Snow White," the plump little man pronounced my nickname very slowly, "I am Alberic. Now we have both answered each other's questions."  
  
"Yes, so we have," I replied, slightly confused.  
  
"So you're not a monster?" a very small man interrupted loudly. They all shh-ed at him and he glanced around nervously. This reaction made me laugh.  
  
"No, I'm not," I said gaily. Alberic rolled his eyes.  
  
"Well, of course she's not a monster, men. She's a lady," he emphasized the word, lady.  
  
There was a chorus of "oohhh's."  
  
"But, hey, you were the one who thought Lady Snow White was a monster in the first place, weren't you, Al?" one little man said. Alberic glared.  
  
"First of all, my name is Alberic, not Al, not Ally, Alberic," he folded his arms, "And I knew all along she wasn't a monster."  
  
"Yeah sure," they all started arguing and closing in on him.  
  
"Wait! Wait!" I yelled over the raucous. They quieted and stared at me. "Now if you would just keep quiet and tell me your names, I promise you I am not dangerous."  
  
"A lady? Dangerous? That's insanity!" one of them shouted. My thoughts turned to my stepmother as they formed a line across the middle of the room. Now that I could see them clearer, they wore woolen shirts and jackets and little cotton pairs of pants. Some of them wore boots, but most of them were barefooted. Alberic pushed up his glasses and stepped forward.  
  
"Of course, you know I am Alberic." I nodded and he stepped back. The second little man stepped forward and took off his hat, revealing pointed ears through a thick mass of red hair.  
  
"I am Samsen," he said softly, smiling.  
  
"Pleased to meet you, Samsen," I smiled at him. Each of them stepped forward one at a time. There was Perry, the smallest and apparently the youngest; Warryn, the tall and skinny with a stubble of a beard; Martin, who was full of smiles and hearty laughs for me; Daran, a man full of points, pointy nose, pointy shoulders, knobby fingers and knees; and finally Gareth, the one who believed that ladies could not possibly be dangerous. I should have to tell him some stories.  
  
"Now to order of business," Alberic, who seemed to be the leader of the pack, spoke, "why are you in our house?"  
  
"Your house?" I asked surprised. Then it dawned on me. The seven beds, the seven chairs, seven sets of plates, so that was why. Thoroughly disappointed, I pulled the covers off me and smoothed down my skirts.  
  
"But why are little men living all by themselves in the middle of the forest?" I asked them.  
  
"Men?" Martin laughed, his belly shaking, "We are not men, Lady Snow, we are dwarves."  
  
My eyes widened. I was reminded of a story my father told me once, the one Erin liked so much, the one about the seven dwarves who lived in a house in the woods.  
  
"So it's true." I said to myself, running my fingers through my tangled hair.  
  
"What's true?" Perry piped up. I looked up and they were all staring at me again. I shook my head.  
  
"Nothing, nothing." I stood up and quickly made the beds as they watched my every move. Then I straightened up and looked at them.  
  
"I have a proposition for you," I said, holding my hands in front of me, "If you agree to let me stay with you, as I have no where else to go, I will cook and clean for you, seeing as seven dwarves seem to have some trouble with housekeeping."  
  
They looked at one another.  
  
"Huddle, men!" Alberic ordered and they grouped together, whispering and waving their hands to try and speak. Finally they pulled apart.  
  
"It is decided," Alberic announced, "that Lady Snow White will be allowed to stay in our little cottage as long as she keeps up her end of the bargain."  
  
I laughed gaily. "I'll start right now. Have you had your supper?"  
  
********************************  
  
An hour later, the seven dwarves and I were sitting around the table eating bread and vegetable soup and speaking very cordially to one another and slowly getting to know one another.  
  
"So you have lived here for hundreds of years?" I asked, munching on some of the crunchy bread, the first good food I had had in days. They nodded, slurping.  
  
"Through generations of course," I swallowed.  
  
"Oh no, lady," Gareth said, "We have always lived here."  
  
I laughed in disbelief, "But then you would have be older than one hundred!"  
  
They stared at me. My eyes widened.  
  
"I am going on 182 next month!" Perry announced. And here I thought he was the youngest. I moved on to a different subject.  
  
"What do you do with yourselves during the day? Surely you don't stay at home."  
  
"We work in the silver mines, miss," Samsen said quietly. He always spoke very softly whenever he spoke at all.  
  
"But it's no place for a lady!" Alberic interrupted. They nodded in agreement.  
  
"We work everyday except for Sundays, Lady Snow. But you are welcome to do with the day as you like."  
  
"Thank you," I smiled at them. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight  
  
The next morning I awoke, hardly daring to believe the happenings of the night before. The dwarves had quickly made up a bed on the floor in the kitchen beside the stove, so it was warm and cozy under the thick blankets and the comforting heat of the crackling fire. I lay for a while in silence as I slowly let myself out of sleep and contemplating on my new whereabouts.  
  
It certainly wasn't the king's palace, but it held a homier feel to it, always filled with warmth and chatter. Though I couldn't deny the dwarves argued quite a lot. I spent a half-hour watching them tug at pillows trying to figure where I should sleep. In the end they decided to make a bed for me the next Sunday afternoon in the lean-to in the main room. But I found I thoroughly enjoyed my little companions and I was pretty sure they enjoyed my company as well. I sure hoped they did because if it wasn't for this house, I still might be wandering through the woods, eating barely anything and falling into hidden brooks. I was determined to start anew with the dwarves and forget everything that my past had so scornfully thrown at me.  
  
I sat up and breathed the morning in. It smelled of rain and the clouds were setting low and thick in the sky, but I at least had time to explore the grounds around the cottage before breakfast. Upon standing up and smoothing down the same stained yellow dress, I tiptoed out over the front stoop and walked around the side of the house. By the sidewall, there was, one once was a kitchen garden, full of weeds and moldy tomato plants and leftover pumpkin vines. The back of the house was a bit prettier. It was an open meadow that stretched a good acre or two and was covered with grasses and wild flowers. I walked a little bit over it and stumbled across two gravestones. Intrigued, I knelt down to read them.  
  
Theodore Ewen II  
"May green meadows find you"  
  
"They certainly did," I murmured, gazing at the very worn stone engraving surrounded by forget-me-nots. The other tombstone was too worn away to read anymore. I stood up and walked back towards the house, remembering to finish scoping the grounds after breakfast.  
  
"Who is Theodore Ewen II?" I asked the dwarves as they yawned and stretched their way to their chairs to eat. Even through their tiredness, they bowed their heads.  
  
"He founded this place," Alberic said, "Built it with his own two hands. He was killed by a witch about fifty years back. He was a good dwarf. One of the first ones in this country."  
  
The other dwarves nodded silently in agreement. There was an awkward silence before I asked them what they wanted for breakfast.  
  
"Oh, we'll make it this morning!" Martin laughed. He always laughed when he spoke, "You've still got a lot to learn about dwarves yet."  
  
He walked over to the bookshelf and pulled out of the books, no longer dusty. He flipped through the pages, stroking his red beard and stopped at a particular page.  
  
"Men!" he looked up at them all and nodded them over. They whispered together for a few minutes, while I struggled to listen in. They nodded in agreement and Perry came over to me, taking my hand and seating me down on one of the tiny chairs.  
  
"This morning, we will make breakfast for our guest," Perry exclaimed grandly in his squeaky voice. They circled around the kitchen area and left the book open. Alberic moved his hands and waved them at the cupboard. To my astonishment, the cupboard creaked open by itself and two bowls came flying out into Alberic's open palms.  
  
"Now, would you prefer hot cakes or bacon?" he asked nonchalantly to me. My jaw was stuck open in surprise.  
  
"Um-well, I." I didn't know what to say. Alberic shrugged.  
  
"All right, we'll have both."  
  
Samsen pulled a wooden spoon from his sleeve and started mixing something in the bowl. They ran around each other, making little explosions and small popping noises and as they did so, a very delicious aroma filled the air. The oven somehow heated itself and Gareth opened it and pulled out two fresh loaves of bread that I'm sure were not there twenty minutes ago. He grinned at my surprise and placed them in the middle of the table, still steaming. Martin grabbed a slab of yellow butter out of the air and a butter plate came sailing out of the cupboard. They landed together next to the bread on the table.  
  
I was beyond shock. This was completely different from what I imagined dwarves to be like, when I imagined them at all. The day before I was satisfied living very realistically and doing what I could from what life handed me, but here was these seven dwarves pulling flour and sugar out of the air, creating life as they wanted it. It was too good to be true, too amazing for me to comprehend.  
  
Ten minutes later, there was a platter of delicious-looking hot cakes and a plate of bacon that made my mouth water. The dwarves sat calmly down at the table and began to dig their forks into the meal. I gaped at them.  
  
"That.was amazing," I found my voice.  
  
"Aw that was just little magic," Alberic waved his hand and the butter raised towards him and landed in his hand.  
  
"Why didn't you show this to me last night?" I asked.  
  
"We weren't sure about you yet, but now that we know you can be trusted, we can squeeze out a little of our magic now and then," a napkin wiped Gareth's mouth by itself.  
  
"And that was just little magic?" I asked in disbelief.  
  
"Oh yes, that is all we ever do. Bigger magic could cause damage for one and for another we don't want to be noticed by civilization. Big magic would draw attention to us," Martin said between swallows.  
  
"I didn't know dwarves had magic," I started filling my plate.  
  
"But of course, Lady Snow," Alberic smiled at me, "Theodore's father, Theodore the first was famous for his incredible magic. Though most humans don't recognize dwarf magic. Their fairy tales only include the fairies, witches and wizards and other such creatures."  
  
"Are there really fairies? I asked excitedly.  
  
"Oh of course."  
  
"In this forest?"  
  
"Yes, we're in good relations with them, but they don't come around much. They're very selfish little creatures."  
  
At nine o'clock I stood at the door and watched the dwarves walk off through the woods to the mines. Much as I loved my little friends, I was glad for my days of solitude. I made my way back to the back meadow. I passed the gravestones again and brushed my hand over the engraving. The name made me think back to the well. Teddy. Was he looking for me? I grieved for him. He would never know the reason why I disappeared. And he would never find me, even if he were looking for me. Somehow I felt this.  
  
I left the gravestones behind and walked through the tall grasses wandering around in my thoughts till noontime when I walked back to the house for some of the leftover bread and butter from breakfast. I cleaned up some of the main room in silence, for even doing magic left a mess.  
  
That evening, the dwarves came home, weary and dirty. I wouldn't let them in the house until they had gone to the stream to wash off.  
  
I made them supper in a slightly irritated mood. I wasn't sure why I was in such a mood, perhaps because I had allowed myself to think of the past. I was paying attention to what I was doing and spilled flour all over my dress.  
  
"Aawww," I groaned, "this is the only dress I have."  
  
The dwarves rushed towards me.  
  
"Never fear," Martin smiled up at me, "We think it's time to broaden your wardrobe anyhow. Even in a small cottage such as this, a lady can't live in one dress. We'll fix this."  
  
They pulled me to the center of the room. They circled around me and Gareth walked around me, removing all the stains and tears from my yellow dress with a wave of his hands, leaving it just as beautiful as it was when Erin had taken it out of the closet which seemed so long ago now.  
  
"What are your favorite colors?" Daran asked me.  
  
"What do you mean?" I gave him a questioning look.  
  
"Well, just tell me, what are your favorite colors?" he repeated.  
  
Confused, I answered him, "Well, I suppose blue, red, green, and lilac."  
  
As I spoke the colors, each dwarf broke from the circle and got to work waving their hands. A few minutes later, I was surrounded by freshly made dresses all in the colors I had asked for. I raised my eyebrows. There was a pale blue one with short sleeves and a thin row of lace around the waist. Martin had created a wine-colored one with elbow sleeves with flowing skirts and a low neckline. The spring green frock Alberic had made and was short sleeves with equally long skirts and the lilac had long sleeves and a thin ribbon around the waist.  
  
"Oh really, you didn't need to do this," I stared at the dresses that were floating around me.  
  
"We know we didn't," Daran said, scratching his pointy nose, "but consider it a welcoming gift for you. Besides, don't you think you'd need some new things once and a while?"  
  
"I-I suppose so," I swallowed.  
  
"Then everything's fine!" Alberic grinned, "Let's have supper. I'm starving!"  
  
I went and hung my new clothes in the closet under the stairs and upon smiling to myself, resolved to start a new with these magical creatures. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine  
  
Days passed, and upon them weeks and before I knew it, months had gone by. By now it seemed as if I had lived with the dwarves forever. Winter had fallen and bewitched the little cottage into what looked like a figure in a snow globe. Somehow Gareth managed to sweep the walkway without any use of a broom and the windows sparkled intensely with glistening white crystals, though the marigold on the sill never did die. Samsen spun me from the air a winter coat, a pair of wooly mittens, a scarf and a very sweet little red cap. I must say I was very pleased and pleasantly surprised with their taste in women's clothing. Every morning after the dwarves went off to the mines, my duty was to go into the woods to collect firewood. The dwarves told me again and again that they could conjure fires themselves, but I was firmly in earnest that I would not sit inside the whole three months of winter. Though perhaps it might have been better if I did.  
  
One grey afternoon, after a new snow had just fallen and the wind was even more bitterly cold than usual, I set off to fetch firewood. Despite it's dreary sky and biting wind that gnawed at my face and ears, the newly fallen snow left fresh footprints to make and new paths to cover in the silence of the snow and the trees. I wrapped my scarf carefully around my head so it covered my mouth and nose. I had twisted my hair so it fit in my cap, so that all that could be seen were my eyes. I hopped and leaped over snow banks, lifting my wretched skirts as I skated over icy ponds, going farther than usual. The soft silence of the wind in the trees and the boughs rustling was enough to keep me enraptured in the grey and cold atmosphere. Humming through my scarf, I picked up scraps of branches off the ground, fairly skipping through the beauty and whiteness. My humming stopped when I crashed into someone.  
  
"Oh, excuse-" I started, but gasped when I saw who I crashed into. Teddy and some of his men stood before me. A taller, more manly looking Teddy, but Teddy none the less. I dropped my pile of firewood and did not venture to pick them up again. I fixed my hat and securely fastened my scarf around my face, so that still, only my eyes showed. They seemed to have been hunting for some of them had bows and arrows and one of Teddy's guards had a pheasant slung over his shoulder. A couple of horses were being driven behind them. After taking this all in, I kept my eyes to the ground. Teddy, thankfully, did not seem to recognize me.  
  
"Are you lost, lady?" he asked and I almost melted into saying, 'Yes! Yes! Take me away from here!' But I stood my ground.  
  
"Not at all, sir," my knees were trembling, "I was just collecting firewood."  
  
I risked a look up at him. He was looking back at me most earnestly, with kindness and doubt.  
  
"On a day like this? So far from anywhere? Dearest lady, surely not. Shall we escort you home?" his boyish voice had deepened since I last spoke with him. His words made my mind go blank. I looked up at him again and for a second our eyes locked. For a horrible instant, I thought he recognized me.  
  
"Um-I.no, that's quite all right-" I stumbled past him and ran in the opposite direction of the cottage, so if they did follow me, they wouldn't be led to the dwarves. I ran as fast as my legs would allow me and as far as I possibly could before I was positive they weren't behind me or at all close to me.  
  
I collapsed, panting, in a snow bank and began to sob. My tears froze to my numbed cheeks and my breath hung in the air in puffs of cloud. It wasn't fair. I had completely disposed of my past months ago and now it had come to blow up in my face again. Well no, that wasn't exactly true. There was that one terribly real nightmare sometime in December when I saw my stepmother cackling at the mirror and saying, "Who now is the fairest one of all?" The mirror had responded, "Away in the woods, Snow White is still the fairest one of all." I had woken up sweating and screaming, seeing visions of John, the woodcutter, hanged in the town square.  
  
But I had slowly taken that from my mind. Those were nightmares; they couldn't have possibly been real. But this was real. Teddy had been standing there in the flesh no less than a yard away from me. I put my hands to my face, wiping the icy tears away as best I could and slowly made my way back to the cottage empty-handed. I never did see the huntsmen or Teddy that day or that winter, thankfully.  
  
When the dwarves returned that evening and saw me curled up by the empty grate, face tear-streaked and shivering with cold, they hurried to conjure a fire and cover me with blankets from their beds. Daran made some tomato soup, no magic this time, but from the tomatoes we had saved in the pantry from the garden. They never asked why I had come home empty-handed nor why I was so upset. I'm glad they didn't, but I wasn't allowed to venture out into the snow for firewood anymore.  
  
"Come, let us talk of happy things," Alberic, always the leader, gathered all the dwarves around the fire with me in the center.  
  
"Tell us a story Lady Snow," Perry squeaked.  
  
"Oh yes do!" they all agreed. I nodded, giving a small smile of consent.  
  
"Well.let me see," I swallowed some soup as well as some of the events of the day along with it, "once upon a time there lived a girl who had never known her mother. Her father raised her to the age of nine until he remarried. But the girl's stepmother was horrible and mean, and no matter how many times the girl tried to become closer to her, she would push her away. Even after the girl's father died of sickness, the stepmother never wanted anything to with the girl because she was horribly jealous of her."  
  
"Why?" Perry asked.  
  
"Because." the words suddenly became very hard to get out, ".because the girl was prettier than she was. So the girl was all alone in the world. The only friends she had were the servants of the household and one prince whom she had met on several occasions," I stopped briefly in my story to catch my breath, "Everybody loved the girl, except for her stepmother. Her stepmother soon got so angry and jealous of the girl's beauty that she ordered the family woodcutter to take the girl into the forest and kill her."  
  
The dwarves gasped. "Did he do it?" Alberic asked fearfully.  
  
I shook my head slowly, "No. He loved the girl so much that he couldn't do it and told the girl to run off into the forest and never return for her stepmother would surely kill her if she did."  
  
"So what happened to her?" Warryn asked. I smiled.  
  
"The girl came upon a small cottage and went to live with seven dwarves." 


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten  
  
There was a long silence in which they all stared at me. I hadn't any idea myself why I decided to tell them that particular story. I hugged my knees and waited for their reply.  
  
"How ironic!" Perry broke the silence, "That's just like us!"  
  
Warryn punched him in the shoulder, "No, it's her you fool!"  
  
Perry grew wide-eyed.  
  
"That girl was you?" Samsen's voice asked softly. I slowly nodded.  
  
"You really have an evil stepmother?" Daran asked sharply. Again I nodded in silence.  
  
"Why didn't you tell us about yourself before?" Alberic stood up, pushing his glasses up his nose.  
  
"I guess it was because all I wanted was to forget about it," I answered quietly.  
  
"Then why tell us now?"  
  
I told them quickly of my encounter with the prince that afternoon.  
  
"Do you love him?" Samsen gave me a look of pure understanding and sympathy.  
  
"I.Well, I've.I suppose.I guess I do." A lump grew in my throat, not because of the prince, but because my thoughts drifted to my father. He seemed so distant in all these months of being lost. They all gathered closer to me.  
  
"Now we shall tell you a story," Alberic sat down again beside me.  
  
"You know the gravestone of Theodore Ewen II?" he asked. I nodded, wiping my eyes on the blanket.  
  
"Do you know anything about the gravestone beside it?" he said. I remembered the other grave that was too worn away to read the inscription.  
  
"That gravestone," Alberic continued, "is of Theodore Ewen's wife, Felicity. Never was there ever such a woman as she. There was no one kinder, prettier or clever."  
  
I had no idea where this was going, but this dwarf woman intrigued me.  
  
"There was a great controversy when Theodore decided to marry her because she was part elf. Her family threatened to disown her if she decided to marry into the dwarf clan. Yet she did anyhow. So if you can imagine, poor Felicity with no one but Theodore by her side, otherwise completely alone. You can see, we dwarves are quite accustomed to taking others not of our kind into shelter." Alberic chuckled at this point. "Felicity and Theodore had nine children, which is actually quite few for dwarves, but four of them were killed by a witch, the same who would end up killing Theodore and Felicity herself. The second of their children, Avery, was Perry, Gareth and Martin's father." Alberic gestured to Martin sitting next to him; the three of them nodded solemnly.  
  
"Who is this witch you keep talking about?" I interrupted.  
  
"Well, no one actually knows her current whereabouts but she has lived for hundreds of years. Witches are particularly hard to kill off. This witch is the only witch left, the only evil one that is, and the only reason we are not going off to try and kill her is that for one, we do not know where she is and two, she is much too clever to fiddle with. For fifty years, she has been silent, so we will continue to keep it so as long as possible. This witch has cast so many evil spells that have killed so many of our kind, Lady Snow. You know not her terrible character."  
  
"And you are not all brothers?" I asked.  
  
"No," Alberic shook his head, "Daran and Samsen are my brothers and Martin, Gareth, Warryn and Perry are my cousins. My father was Avery's brother, Amos."  
  
"My father," Warryn interrupted, "was Ewen, the youngest of Theodore's sons, and he was killed by the witch before I knew him."  
  
"There are two remaining sons and one daughter left of Theodore Ewen's children," Alberic explained, "My father, Amos, and Avery and their sister, Fera. They live on the opposite side of the country. We hardly ever see them. They are nearing three hundred years of age."  
  
I raised my eyebrows.  
  
"So that is a narrative of our history, miss. We hope certainly that you feel a little bit more at ease than before now that we have shared so much of ourselves as you have done. You are the first to know of our past and I have a feeling we are the first to know yours. In that we are connected."  
  
I smiled at this statement, feeling indeed greatly comforted by their tale.  
  
"I do not know what I would do without you all," I said, brimming over with tears of mirth. They grinned bashfully at me and gave me hugs before venturing off to bed. Before he turned to go up the stairs, Samsen turned and took my hand in his small one.  
  
"I'm very glad you came to stay with us, Lady Snow," he said softly, "I hope you stay for a long time."  
  
"Me as well," I squeezed his hand.  
  
"Alberic has never opened our doors to strangers before you know," Samsen explained, "You must be very special."  
  
He turned and climbed the stairs, looking back under the stair rail before going up to bed. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven  
  
Things were back to normal in the days following and March came in with howling winds and pouring rain. On one occasion, the dwarves had to stay home because the torrent of rain was too hard to travel in. They became my dearest of dear friends. We spent days reading aloud books to one another and creating magical meals and nights of music and dancing. I couldn't remember a happier time of all the time I spent with the dwarves.  
  
Spring finally came and the gardens behind the house bloomed to their fullest extent of wild violets, Johnny Jump Up's, starflowers (my personal favorite), foxgloves and the scarlet rhododendrons, as well as the hydrangea and the azalea bushes by the front walkway. The vegetable patch on the side of the house was chock full of tomatoes and the yellow flowers on the pumpkin vines and other such delicious delights. An orchard I had found on the side of the meadow had trees thick with blossom. Through my days by myself, I spent many hours climbing trees and filling baskets of apple blossoms and the daisies of the meadow. On one walk through the woods, I stumbled upon a lilac bush of which I cut a branch and brought home to the cottage, filling it with a fragrance sweeter than any perfume I had smelled wandering through the streets of my old village.  
  
June arrived and with it the first apples in the orchards. Unfortunately I couldn't pick and eat them quite yet, as they were young, small and mostly wormy. I couldn't believe I had spent nearly a year in this cottage in the middle of the woods. It had seemed only yesterday when I stumbled upon it, dizzy with hunger and weariness. And now as I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw a girl of now seventeen years of age with soft, long black hair, full rosy cheeks from the fresh spring air and the sunshine, and eyes that sparkled after a day of wandering in the woods.  
  
One morning in early July, after seeing the dwarves off to the mines, I set up a picnic just outside the front of the house and sat in the sunshine creating one of my flower wreathes this time of the fragrant lilac blossoms I had found. It was a particularly fine day yet with a taste of a wet wind coming in from the north. There were clouds settled there over the mountains, but I paid no heed to them as I hummed and worked my fingers through the purple flowers.  
  
"Excuse me," a sweet voice said. I jumped and looked up and saw an old woman that had to be a dwarf because her loss of height and the tiny pointy ears. For human years, she looked about to be ninety years old, but for a dwarf, I thought perhaps 250. She carried a basket of flowers and what looked like her lunch and was dressed in similar clothing my seven dwarves lived in, a cotton shirt and a dark skirt with bare toes peeking out from underneath. A grey shawl was wrapped around her shoulders.  
  
"Is this the house of the seven dwarves?"  
  
Concluding that she was indeed a dwarf by her slightly strange accent, I nodded and smiled at her.  
  
"They are unfortunately off to work until the evening, but you are most welcome to sit down with me in the sunshine. You must be Fera."  
  
"Yes, I am," the old woman dwarf smiled, though she kept her eyes to the ground. She sat down beside me and took out her lunch.  
  
"You must have traveled a long way to get here," I replied, trying to make conversation.  
  
"Oh yes, my nephews' house is very far from where I live. I have been traveling this past week to get here."  
  
"Are your brothers not arriving as well?" I asked, tying together my wreath.  
  
"No, I am the youngest of us three and the only one up to make the journey. Amos and Avery are much too weak to walk such a long way."  
  
"I quite understand. But I'm sure the dwarves will be happy to see you despite the fact." I smiled at her.  
  
She smiled back at me, "Perhaps."  
  
There was a moment of silence before she offered me some of her lunch.  
  
"Oh no thank you. I have a sandwich inside waiting for me."  
  
"Oh really I insist," she picked up an apple from her basket, "Our apples are famous for being the biggest and the sweetest on our side of the country. Try it."  
  
She held the biggest, juiciest, reddest looking apple I've ever seen in my life. I couldn't resist. It looked positively delicious, compared to the small sickly ones in our orchard. I took it from Fera and took a large bite. She was right, it was the most wonderful apple I've ever tasted, the sweet yet tangy flavor melting in my mouth. The last thing I remember saying to her was "thank you," and her saying with a malicious tone of voice, "You're quite welcome."  
  
Then a strange feeling came over me that started from my head and worked down to my toes. It was almost like being dizzy, yet dangerously so. I couldn't quite explain it. I put my hand to my head to stop the world from spinning around me. Nothing would steady. I was falling, falling into oblivion and not knowing an end. Darkness slipped over my eyes and I knew no more.  
  
(((  
  
The next part of my story was told to me by Alberic. Here I write it as best as it was described to me.  
  
Alberic and the other dwarves arrived home as usual about an hour later for their lunch break.  
  
"I really don't think it was real," Daran argued to Warryn.  
  
"Well of course the diamond was real! I found it amongst the other set of crystals that we put-"  
  
Warryn bumped into Martin who had crashed into Alberic in front. He was then squashed from behind by Daran, Gareth, Samsen and Perry. Alberic seemed stricken with fear. They all pulled away from each other and peered at what Alberic was looking at in front of the house. The limp form of Lady Snow lay on the grass under the front window and Fera sat complacently waiting for them on the front stoop.  
  
"Fera?" Alberic finally found words, "Wh-what is the meaning of this? What has happened to Lady Snow?"  
  
"I was wondering when you'd come back Alberic," Fera stood up, wiping her hands on her skirt. She had a strange smile on her face and even though Alberic and the others hadn't seen her in at least thirty years, they could tell something was very wrong about her. She raised her eyebrows.  
  
"I see you've all met my stepdaughter." 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve  
  
Fera took a step forward and her body began to stretch. The dwarves watched in horror as her hair lengthened and darkened, her figure became taller and slimmer, her skin became fairer and younger-looking and her face turned to an evil expression. The red lips curled into a smirk and she stared hard- faced at them through cold dark eyes. Her eyebrows were arched and she placed her hands on her hips after smoothing down a long dark dress.  
  
"The witch!" one of the dwarves gasped.  
  
"So you're the evil stepmother!" Warryn spat at her angrily.  
  
"Very good, yes," she nodded slightly, still with the same malicious smile on her lips.  
  
"What have you done to Snow White?" Alberic demanded, while the others stood behind him.  
  
"Nothing that you should worry about," the witch broadened her smile, showing very white teeth, "for you will soon meet the same end."  
  
Alberic glanced over at Lady Snow's limp form, sprawled over the grass and felt a surge of anger run through him. This witch had taken away almost everyone he had ever loved and now she had taken away the one lady the dwarves cared about most. He turned around to look at his brothers and cousins and saw they were thinking the same thoughts; they were looking back at him with determination. Alberic turned around back to face the witch.  
  
"I think not," he said in the most angry tone he could muster, "No, I-we- think it is time to end years of falling back, years of watching our fathers perish before us, years of watching you make all our loved ones suffer."  
  
The witch let out a cackle, "I'd like to see the seven of you little rats try!"  
  
The dwarves drew closer together and stared back at her with almost tangible hatred. For one moment, there was a flash of fear flickering in her face expression.  
  
"After her!" Alberic shouted and the dwarves charged. The witch was too fast for them and was already a good deal into the forest. The clouds from the north were closing in, the wet wind from the early morning smelled strongly of oncoming rain. The dwarves soon felt drops falling as they ran blindly through the trees, determined to avenge Lady Snow. The witch was but a glimpse of flying skirts ahead of them. But they knew where she was headed.  
  
On and on they trailed behind her, picking up stones and flailing them as hard as their little arms could throw them forward. The rain was getting harder and harder and soon it was getting harder and harder to see. Alberic had to keep using magic to keep his glasses from fogging up. The ground was getting rockier and the dwarves kept tripping over stray stones in the pathway as it inclined. The witch was heading just where they wanted her.  
  
As the rain beat hard on their backs and made it so they had to shout at one another, they relentlessly followed the witch up the side of a mountain.  
  
"You little brats!" they heard her screaming from above them as a sudden clap of thunder shook the ground, "give up, you'll never win!"  
  
"How do you know?" Warryn screamed back, "You keep running away!"  
  
His words seemed to be lost in the howling wind. They trampled up the mountainside and found the witch waiting for them at a steep ledge. She looked angrier than they had ever seen her before, her hair up on end and she was struggling for breath.  
  
"You-" she panted, "-you thought you could keep Meg alive, thought you could keep her safe! Well, evil will always conquer because good is too weak!"  
  
She thrust her hands out in front of her and before the dwarves had time to wonder who Meg was, she had grabbed Samsen by the neck and held him in the air as rain poured down her face.  
  
"NO!" Alberic screamed, but she had already flung him across the ledge and sent him skidding across the hard ground and over the edge. Warryn ran at her with Martin behind him, but she spread her fingers and shot bright yellow light at them, like the lightening flashing in the sky, and they collapsed. The other remaining dwarves circled around her, tightening their fists. As they stepped nearer to her, they pushed her closer to the edge, the plan seemed to be working.  
  
"You fools!" she screamed at them. Then a flash of lightening hit the ledge and a huge chunk of it broke off, sending the witch into her doom thousands of feet below. They could hear her screams and curses echoing, fading away into the wind. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen  
  
The rain was still pouring down and the wind still howling and lightening flashing, but there was a strange sort of silence upon the broken ledge. Alberic was standing with his fists still clenched, staring off the cliff in the grey nothingness beyond, completely bewildered. Gareth and Perry, however, rushed to Warryn and Martin still lying unconscious on the rocky ground. Warryn had a sizzling mark shaped like a circle by his left ear and Martin on his left shoulder. Gareth took his hands and placed them gently on Warryn's head, closing his eyes. A moment or two later, Warryn's own eyes fluttered open. Daran went over and did the same procedure on Martin. When both were awake, all looked upon Alberic, who still was motionless.  
  
"Alberic?" Perry squeaked uncertainly. He crept over to the dwarf and softly put a hand on his shoulder. Alberic didn't even startle or move.  
  
"He's gone Alberic," Gareth said quietly, "Come along now." They turned him around and slowly started making their way back down the mountain. Suddenly, Alberic stiffened.  
  
"Did you hear that?" he said faintly. Perry, who was holding up his right side, looked up at his face soberly.  
  
"It's just the wind, Alberic."  
  
"No, no, listen," Alberic shrugged them away and turned around again. The other dwarves stopped and listened to the mournful sound of the wind. Alberic ran to the edge of the cliff and knelt, peering down the side.  
  
"Samsen!" he yelled. The others looked at each other in shock and scrambled over. A little figure about seven feet down was dangling from a root in the wall of rock. There were a few tense moments as Daran conjured a rope and threw it down and all of them pulled Samsen up the cliff until a hand grasped the edge. They almost let go of the rope in relief. Samsen climbed onto the ledge and gasped for breath. He was too weak to walk a very long distance, so Gareth, the tallest, carried him. Once again, they slowly walked down the mountain pass to the forest to the sorrow that awaited them.  
  
Back at the cottage, the rain was not beating down so hard. A light sprinkle covered the dwarves as they reached the walkway and saw Lady Snow still lying motionless on the grass. They tried everything to wake her, no magic would do. But yet she seemed so lifelike, like she was only asleep. But there was nothing they could procure to wake her.  
  
Nobody really spoke much as they dried her off and dressed her in the yellow gown she had first worn when she came to live with them. They laid her in her bed, but couldn't bring themselves to do anything with her. Samsen took the unfinished lilac flower wreath, finished it and placed it on her head. They folded her hands nicely on her chest and smoothed down her gown.  
  
"Isn't there anything we can do for her?" Perry sighed, to nobody in particular when evening came and they settled down to a supper of cold soup and dry bread.  
  
"I really don't know Perry," Alberic said quietly, "That witch cast a spell on her. Witches spells are very complicated, far more complicated than anything of a dwarf's magic. I'm afraid there is nothing to be done at present."  
  
Silently, they finished their meal and went to bed.  
  
The next day passed just as quietly. They went to work as normal and came back to gaze despairingly at Snow White's bed. They knew she couldn't be completely dead, her skin was not in the least bit cold, but perhaps it was something worse than death, something nothing but a witches spell could cast, something they knew nothing about. None of them exactly knew why they kept her in the house, but even now and again, Alberic could be heard creeping downstairs in the dark of night and muttering incantations above her head. Nothing worked. The dwarves were heartbroken. Lady Snow had brought so much into the old house, laughter and music and lively conversation. They supposed it would just have to be as if she never came, except it felt entirely different, so alone.  
  
The summer ended and October came with beautiful austere blue skies and brilliant hues of red and orange leaves, things Snow would have gushed about in her dream-like fashion. But the autumn held no beauty for the dwarves.  
  
One evening, the dwarves were settled down at the dinner table, silently sitting doing nothing. They all stared rather uncomfortably at one another.  
  
"Why don't we read aloud a book?" Martin asked suddenly in a false cheery voice, quite unlike his usual happy nature.  
  
"No, Snow was the only one who could do all the characters," Daran folded his arms on his chest, leaning back in his chair.  
  
"Well what about a game of cards?" Martin tried again. A few shook this heads dismally.  
  
"Ya need eight people to play Kings on a Corner anyway," Alberic said quietly.  
  
"Some music?"  
  
"Can't sing," Gareth muttered.  
  
"Come now come now, men, can't we get passed this? We've done it before!" Martin banged his fist on the table, making the candle light bounce.  
  
"It's kind of difficult when she's right there!" Daran sneered sarcastically, thrusting his hand towards Lady Snow's bed.  
  
"Well, then, maybe its time that-" Martin started quietly.  
  
"NO!" Alberic interrupted sharply. They all shifted uncomfortably and the silence fell again. All of a sudden, there was a knock on the door. 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen  
  
The dwarves tensed. Warryn jumped up and grabbed a knife from his pocket. Gareth reached over, watching the door, and took a crossbow from under the table. They edged toward the door.  
  
"Who calls?" Alberic's voice cracked.  
  
"It is Prince Theodore of Carlisle," called the voice behind the door.  
  
"Should we let him in?" Daran hissed.  
  
"Well, he was a friend of Lady Snow's." Perry pointed out hesitantly.  
  
Warryn strode to the door and opened it wide. There stood a young man with short brown curls with his hands behind his back.  
  
"Excuse me," he spoke, slightly embarrassed, "I've been searching over this land for quite some time for."  
  
He fell silent as he entered the cottage and saw Lady Snow lying peacefully on the bed across the room.  
  
"Meg?" he asked, to no one in particular, but seemed dumbstruck.  
  
"Meg? That's-" Perry started, but Alberic stomped on his foot.  
  
What has happened to her?" the prince kneeled down beside the bed, touching a limp hand.  
  
"We.we don't really know, Your Highness," Alberic stepped forward, "She was poisoned by a witches spell, her stepmother to be exact. We have only to suspect that is something worse than death but nothing will wake her."  
  
Prince Theodore strode back and forth, fuming and muttering curses.  
  
"Her stepmother?" he burst out, his boots thumping on the wooden floor, "I knew it! That foul-"  
  
"Her stepmother is dead, Your Highness," Samsen said quietly, "She was killed by falling off a cliff when lightening struck the summit."  
  
The prince stopped pacing and returned to his place beside Meg. He gently squeezed her hand.  
  
"Meg, please wake," he muttered desperately, "I've traveled all this way to find you. You have no idea what I've been through to get to you. Please wake."  
  
She showed no movement, but continued in her deathlike sleep. The prince sighed and leaned his head on his hand.  
  
"We've tried everything sir," Alberic said, "I'm desperately sorry."  
  
"I know it is not your fault," the prince lifted his head, staring at Meg's face unblinkingly, "I suppose there is no need for me to stay."  
  
He stood up, but before going he grasped Meg's hand again, leaned down to gently kiss her unmoving lips and turned, sighing towards the door.  
  
+ + +  
  
A strange sensation moved through me from my toes all the way up to my head. I shuddered as a cold wave of consciousness blew over me and breath reached my lips. My eyes fluttered open and it took several moments before I realized where I was. It was like waking up from a long, very deep night's sleep. I sat up abruptly, looking around.  
  
"Lady Snow!" Alberic gasped. All seven dwarves looked at me and shouted sounds of shock. Slowly I stood up, my legs shaking. They wrapped their arms around my waist, jumping and crying at the same time. I didn't know what to make of it. I couldn't remember quite clearly what had happened to me.  
  
"The prince!" Perry cried amongst the many entangled arms, "Lady Snow, go get your prince!"  
  
"Yes, yes!" they all cried and let go of me. I walked clumsily towards the door, taking a few steps to get my balance. I pulled the door open, looking around. A young man was sitting on his horse, getting ready to ride.  
  
I stepped down the front stoop, "Leaving so soon?"  
  
He jumped and looked down. His face, even in the darkness, I saw turn from sadness to shock to mirth.  
  
"Meg!" he cried and nearly fell off his horse, climbing down. I laughed and held out my hands to him.  
  
"Teddy," I murmured, placing my hands in his. He gazed at me with those clear grey eyes of his with more happiness than I thought a man could hold.  
  
"I thought-I thought you were-" he panted, "That was you in the woods that winter day, wasn't it?"  
  
I nodded, my eyes brimming over with tears.  
  
"Oh I knew it!" Teddy wrapped his arms around my waist and spun me around, "I realized it after you ran off, but my men wouldn't let me go after you. Oh Meg!"  
  
He stopped spinning and placed me back on the ground, "I've been searching for you ever so long. Ever since." he stopped for breath, ".ever since you disappeared. I knew your stepmother had something to do with this. I knew you couldn't be dead. Meg." he ran a finger through my black curls, ".I love you."  
  
I was so filled with joy, I could barely think. He wiped my tears away with his thumbs and leaned in to kiss me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and we started laughing again and he spun me around. Everything had all of a sudden become like a dream, like I was sleeping all over again, like everything had finally come together. I couldn't explain it. There was so much to talk of, so much to account for.  
  
A ray of light appeared on us and the dwarves stepped out onto the stoop. I smiled and took Teddy's hand, leading him towards the dwarves. There were introductions and laughing. I knelt down and they all surrounded me.  
  
"Will you come with me?" I asked them. They looked at each other and then back at me.  
  
"I'm afraid we can't Lady Snow," Alberic smiled sadly, "This is our home. It has been our home for hundreds of years. There is so much history here. We couldn't possibly leave it."  
  
I nodded.  
  
I guess this is goodbye then," I stood up, wiping my eyes, "as long as you come and visit."  
  
"But of course Lady Snow!" Alberic exclaimed and hugged me around the middle. I each in turn, kissed them farewell, then Samsen came out, carrying a trunk.  
  
"It's full of your clothes, Lady," he said softly, "Your lilac wreath is in there too."  
  
I hugged him and thanked them all numerous times.  
  
"You don't know how you have helped me," I placed my hand on Samsen's head and smiled at them all. They simply beamed back and then pushed me with little hands towards Teddy's horse.  
  
"Off you go then!" Perry shouted gleefully, "May green meadows find you!"  
  
I laughed and stood, taking my trunk and Teddy's hand as he helped me onto the horse. Teddy tied the small trunk in front of me and then climbed on himself. The dwarves all waved and shouted. Teddy pulled on the reins and we galloped off into the night.  
  
And so my fairy tale ended and I can say, most assuredly, that we lived happily ever after.  
  
THE END 


End file.
